


Eddie

by Blue_green_comet, DontCallMeFedya, Krisinie_mysli



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Assistant Edward Nygma, BDSM, Bitch Riddler, Blow Jobs, Bottom Edward Nygma, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mayor Oswald Cobblepot, Mutual Pining, Office, Office Sex, Past Child Abuse, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Power Bottom, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_green_comet/pseuds/Blue_green_comet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeFedya/pseuds/DontCallMeFedya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krisinie_mysli/pseuds/Krisinie_mysli
Summary: Edward Nygma, a 26 y.o. forensic scientist with a dissociative identity disorder decides to change his occupation and becomes the Mayor's personal assistant — the very same Mayor who rules Gotham’s criminal underworld. They begin to establish contact and end up finding a very unusual common ground.////Or kind of office-like AU where first-season Ed works as a personal assistant for four-season Mayor Oswald.
Relationships: Edward Nygma/Riddler - Relationship, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma/Riddler, Oswald Cobblepot/Riddler
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	1. Putting on my music while I'm watching the boys

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Эдди](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22862797) by [DontCallMeFedya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeFedya/pseuds/DontCallMeFedya), [Krisinie_mysli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krisinie_mysli/pseuds/Krisinie_mysli). 



> Some things we’d like to make clear:
> 
> — THE WORK IS WRITTEN IN EQUAL CO-AUTHORSHIP. There are two authors (DontCallMeFedya and Krisinie_mysli) and all the work on the story was shared equally;
> 
> — there are many kinky tags, but the main kinks for this work are mutual active consent, voluntary nature and healthy relationships. It is what it is!
> 
> — A HUGE DADDY KINK, THIS IS NOT A DRILL;
> 
> — originally it started as a series of short porn ficlets (and sometimes — quite often — its shows), but the plot found its way in on the run;
> 
> — this one is for the people who are scared by the sheer number of kinky tags: the first 10 or so chapters are quite breezy. We wouldn’t let minors read it but these first ones really are more or less decent, no smut;
> 
> — you call it a bunch of porn, we call it character development;
> 
> — this story was originally written in Russian and gorgeous @ Blue_green_comet decided to translate this big boy into English. Thank you, dear! 💜

Ed took a tall glass from a bar and swung it slightly. Thick fluid swayed heavily and he took a sip. It tasted good enough, but definitely not worth $25 he had to pay for the cocktail. Iceberg Lounge was clearly a place for people who payed no heed to price. Unfortunately, Ed did not belong to this group of people. But his paycheck should be very conveniently handed in on Monday, so he had every right to spend the rest of the money he had saved for such expenses as “food” and “entertainment”. Although what he was doing there could not be called either.

He looked back once again trying to find someone in a crowd. It should be easy to spot a limping person in black among the mixed group of people but Ed had been sitting there for the past half an hour and never saw it, not once. He knew mr. Mayor had a habit of dropping by his old club on Saturdays, but it didn’t occur every week.

A heavy hand suddenly fell on his shoulder.

— Edward, right? I knew it was you right away.

Ed turned around and saw a stocky man with bright eyes and dark hair. For a moment there Ed felt a flash of joy, but then his eyes shot down. Striped shirt, slightly unbuttoned, a tie with a ridiculous pattern, uneven pleats of his trousers. Stains of mud on his shoes, dear god. Not to mention this guy wore a coat instead of a jacket. A waistcoat was clearly out of the question.

His blurred picture on a dating site made a better impression. But fine, it’s good enough for a one night stand. Ed will simply turn his face away. Not his first time, for god’s sake.

— Yes, you’re right. I’m Ed.

— Great! I’m Humbert. Nice to meet you, Ed, — Humbert extended a hand. Hardly hiding his irritation, Ed shook it. The handshake was weak and unpleasant, and Nygma shuddered inwardly, preparing himself for new disappointments.

— How nice. Do you mind if I call you Oswald? — having had this many “dates”, Ed had already realized this kind of thing should be clarified from a start. If a hypothetical partner refuses to humor even such a small whim, what else is there to talk about?

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

— What? You mean like the Mayor?

Ed closed his eyes so that Humbert couldn’t see them rolling. So not original. They all ask that one.

— Like the Mayor, yes. But it’s a much more common name than you might have imagined.

Humbert tilted his head slightly as if weighing something up and finally said:

— You can call me anything, cutie. What are we drinking? — he took a stool next to Ed and called a bartender. Nygma let out an almost breathless sigh. Apparently, he had doomed himself.

• • •

On his forth try he had finally managed to unlock his apartment. As soon as the door closed behind him he leaned against it with the back of his head and sighed heavily, shutting his eyes. Ed fumbled for a switch and his studio apartment was filled with a dim light.

It was past 3 a.m. and everything he wanted right now was to take a quick shower and sleep for the rest of the weekend. He threw off his shoes while still walking, pulled off a crooked tie, his jacket and trousers. It all needed to be washed.

He came into the bathroom and started, clutching at his chest. His copy was sitting on a washer swaying its legs. The copy was wearing a green suit, foppish boots and a saucy smile on its face.

— Well, Eddie, did you have fun? — Riddler asked him playfully.

Ed sighed, pulled off the rest of his clothes, pushed aside his dark half’s legs and put it all in the washer.

— So how’s mr. Mayor doing, Ed? — Riddler payed no attention whatsoever to Edward’s lack of response. If anything, it seemed to amuse him even more. — Aww, you never met him again, did you now? Such a bummer! Well, better luck next time.

Ed stepped into the cabin and turned on the shower, full pressure. He knew that no noise could muffle Riddler’s words because he heard them right in his head, but he still tried every time.

— Today’s guy was not that bad, huh? — Nygma continued to dwell on it. — Well, he could’ve been alright if you saw him as an individual personality, not as A FREAKING SURROGATE REPLACING YOUR HYPERFIXATION! — the last words were so loud Ed dropper a shampoo bottle. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against wet shower tiles. — And you called him mr. Penguin while he was fucking you, too! So hilarious!

Ed traced the tile seams with his fingers. First, second, third…

— How long has this been going on for? A month? Two? — Ed closed his eyes tightly. He knew that Riddler was just messing with him — he didn’t have to ask for the exact period of time. — Six months, Eddie! Six fucking months you’ve been pining over Penguin! And for what? Huh? Why, Eddie?

Ed shook his head really hard, trying to concentrate on a slight dizziness from a few cocktails he drank, on a feeling of water drops trickling down from his hair, on a shower gel smell.

— You just want mr. Penguin to poke you, don’t you, Eddie? — said a low voice right by his ear.

— No! — Ed finally gave in. He lowered his head and hands, embarrassed by such a violent reaction to a stupid hallucination. This was utterly ridiculous, but he continued to justify himself in front of himself: — Mr. Cobblepot’s personality is highly expressive. I’ve never met such a distinguished person. His intelligence, his abilities and…

Riddler laughed smugly.

— So that’s why you monitor openings in city hall every day? To get close to a “highly distinguished man”?

Ed lowered his gaze.

— What’s so wrong about it? Everyone needs a role model.

— Yes, but not everyone wants their role model to fuck them, — Riddler knocked on a shower cabin’s glass. — What does it say about your personality, Ed? Is it a weird way to absorb his knowledge and skills? Do you think his confidence and power will slide in you just as his cock? You used to prefer libraries to gain knowledge, — sighed Riddler in mock regret.

— You don’t get it, I-

— Jesus! You’re so pathetic, Ed! — Riddler screamed at him, no longer restraining himself. — A dumb pathetic loser! What are you gonna do when you meet him? You’re gonna screw it all up immediately! He won’t let you near him, he won’t even touch you with a barge pole!

Ed finally left the shower, dried himself quickly and put on a clean T-shirt and underwear. He was awkwardly silent. Riddler was sure to notice that and a smile appeared on his face.

— Don’t think I didn’t see you Googling facts about penguins. Do you wanna charm him with this nonsense?

— All you do is criticize me, why don’t you come up with something worthy, — muttered Ed and headed to bed. It was about time for this day to end.

— I’ve told you a thousand times, but you never listen, stupid face. — Riddler sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs. — You let me out — Penguin will belong to us in a couple of hours. You, of course, can watch it only from afar, but your body will be in dearest mr. Mayor’s hands. Isn’t it great?

Ed pulled his laptop closer and lifted the lid. He refreshed the always open page with openings on Gotham City Website and among the common positions for teachers and medical workers he saw something that made his heart race.

— Hey, what is it? Ed, you look weird, what did you see there? — Riddler’s expression quickly changed and he took the laptop. — Mayor’s personal assistant? Seriously, Ed? What good are you as an assistant?

For the first time during this evening Edward looked at Riddler’s face and smiled happily.

— I’m gonna be exactly the assistant mr. Penguin needs.


	2. There's something in the wind, I can feel it blowing in

Oswald had been sitting in his office for hours, focused on some papers. There was a lot of work to do. Although as a mayor he had a huge staff and his own Head of Finance, there were things he simply couldn’t entrust to anybody.

He took his eyes off of documents and propped his forehead with his palms.

He just needed someone to draw up a timetable in a more efficient way than he or Mr. Penn were capable of. Eventually, he needed someone he could trust and to whom he could delegate some responsibilities. He needed an assistant. Male, female, other — he did not care. Someone smart, not irksome, disciplined. Someone who would be attuned to Oswald’s mood and could easily manage his and their own time.

Mr. Penn had been searching for weeks, and Penguin who’d been initially unsure about this whole affair was getting more and more skeptical. He couldn’t imagine entrusting someone with all of his most responsible City Hall and, consequently, criminal underworld business, allowing them to be in control of his everyday schedule, to be at his side at all times. This was inconceivable.

There came a knock on his office door. Without lifting his forehead Oswald invited them in. A short nervously looking person in round glasses appeared at the doorstep.

— Mr. Cobblepot, — the person headed for Oswald’s desk, — if you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss candidates for the position of your assistant, — the man stopped at the desk shifting his feet.

— Sit down, Penn! Do not try my patience, — snapped Oswald.

The man quickly took a seat.

Oswald looked very tired propping up his chin with his elbow on the table. His other hand was stirring cold tea as if playing with it.

— I’m listening.

• • •

After a 20-minute discussion Oswald was left twirling two resumes in his hands. Both had already been stamped by City Hall Security Service and had additional photos of the applicants clipped to them. Both were conditionally adequate for the job. One of them made Oswald especially curious: a rather good-looking Edward Nygma, 26. Quit his job as a medical examiner at GCPD — that’s interesting at the very least. He had zero work experience — as an assistant, in politics, or in any kind of management at all. But his skills were great and his enthusiasm, according to Mr. Penn, was incredible. He said Nygma was qualitatively different from all the other applicants with his level of training. He was a bit awkward but it’s a small price for such a competence.

Seeing no point in procrastinating, Oswald called him. Two dial tones later a very nice voice answered:

— This is Edward Nygma speaking.

— Mr. Nygma, this is Oswald Cobblepot from Gotham City Hall. Are you still applying for the assistant position?

There was only silence over the phone.

— Mr. Nygma, can you hear me? I’m calling about a job offer at the City Hall.

— Yes-yes, Mr. Mayor, pardon the hitch! Of course, yes, I’ve been expecting the call, it’s only that I supposed I was to be contacted by Mr. Penn.

— I considered this unnecessary. Do you mind?

— Oh, no, by no means! After all, it’s you who’s in need of an assistant.

At this moment he fell quiet. It was weird to hear this abrupt silence after all the energetic chirping. Who knows why he stopped talking: does he always break his train of thought like that or did he feel he blurted out? In any event, for some inexplicable reason Oswald wanted him to keep going.

— Mr. Nygma, I’ve noticed something peculiar in your resume. Previous employment — GCPD. You must have heard about my reputation and my line of work outside political activities. Why such a drastic change of field?

— Mr. Penguin, the changes that have happened in the city since you took charge are impressive. I’ve lived in Gotham all my life and I’ve never seen it thrive like this. Besides, as a medical examiner I just couldn’t help but admire the delicacy and extraordinary nature of your unofficial occupation. The efficiency of your methods is worthy of admiration. The corpses were full of such elegant details. I want to work with the best in the field and I’m very anxious to touch the beautiful, — and with that the abrupt silence came again.

— That’s enough, Mr. Nygma, thank you, — Oswald was quick to interrupt the pause and lower the degree of awkwardness. Apparently this is the kind of feature that Mr. Penn considered rather extraordinary.

Oswald settled back in his chair and just in a moment curled up a bit from a sudden weight on his lap. An English bulldog that had been sleeping peacefully by the table up till now jumped up.

— Edward! Good boy, there you go! Sorry, daddy still has work to do. Attaboy! I’ll be back with you in a bit.

There was an odd unintelligible sound on the other end of the line.

— Mr. Nygma, are you alright?

— Yes, Mr. Cobblepot, is something wrong?

— Not really, it’s nothing. So anyway, Nygma, one last time — why do I have to hire you?

— Mr. Mayor, what is it that flies faster than a thought but has neither beginning nor end?

— Excuse me, what? — Oswald’s eyes widened in surprise.

— It’s a riddle, Mr. Penguin. Come on.

Oswald heard a hint of playfulness in the young man’s voice. An interesting choice of a manner of speaking with his future boss (Oswald was practically sure about it at this point).

— Is it time? — Penguin frowned, twiddling a piece of paper in his fingers.

— That’s it! Mr. Mayor, time is your main resource. Entrust me with it and you won’t regret it.

— Alright, Mr. Nygma. You can start on Monday. All the necessary information will be sent to you. See you then, don’t be late.

— Thank you, Mr. Penguin. See you on Monday.

Penguin hung up. Edward’s voice when he spoke the last words seemed a bit unnatural. Maybe there was something wrong with the reception?

“Mr. Penguin”, — repeated Oswald with a soft chuckle. No one had ever called him that. “Mr. Cobblepot”, “Mr. Mayor” or “Penguin”, but never “Mr. Penguin”. There was something charming about it.

Oswald was surprised to discover himself not settled back in his chair but rather bent over the table, crumpling in his hands what was left of the other candidate’s resume. He never even looked at the name, just absentmindedly rumpling the paper all the short time he’d been talking to Edward Nygma. Well, let’s see. He threw the crumpled ball of paper into the bin.


End file.
